Vivian nodded her head, trying to look downcast.
“Good, then this should be an easy transaction.”
“What about me? They’ll be able to identify me.” Moreau whined, coming up next to them. “Who are you? Where’s Franks?” He eyed Morgan suspiciously.
“Franks got so stinkin’ drunk he was useless to me this mornin’.” Dungee improvised. “I picked up this here big fella comin’ into Portsmouth. He’s me cousin.”
Moreau’s eyes narrowed. Morgan remained silent, a vacant expression on his face. Would the lie be enough to avert suspicion? Dubois didn’t even spare a glance for Morgan. He turned to Moreau.
“I think it’s time you headed back to France. Your usefulness here is at an end. You’ve been very helpful, and will be rewarded accordingly.” Dubois smirked. “I have my treasure to reclaim.” This time her head jerked up in genuine surprise. His treasure?
“Your father never told you the treasure was mine? He stole it right out from under my nose. That ship full of booty was my payment from the Spaniards. He captured it en route to New Orleans, the bastard.”
She wisely lowered her head.
“Keep her here in the back until I call for her.” With a last disdainful look toward Vivian, he went back to his table in the front. Moreau trailed close behind him.
Cage pulled her to a table and shoved her roughly down into a chair, then stood next to her, his massive arms crossed in front of him. Dungee shuffled restlessly beside him.
Almost an hour passed before Moreau said, “That’s him, he’s coming in now.”
In strode Jack. Thank goodness.
“Where is she?” he said without preamble.
“Well now, not even a how do you do, eh? She’s right in the back there with my men. Did you bring what I wanted?” Dubois stood up to his full height.
Jack squinted in the dim light “Moreau? You bastard, wasn’t selling secrets enough? You had to add kidnapping young women to your repertoire?”
Moreau stood up. “I knew it was you! How did you steal the list?”
Jack grinned wolfishly. “I didn’t. Miss Jamieson pinched it right out of your pocket.”
Moreau’s face went red with rage. A certain sense of glee raced through Vivian at his reaction.Ha! You fool.
Ignoring Moreau’s outburst, Dubois demanded, “Give me the map, and you can have your thieving wench back.”
“I don’t have it,” Jack said calmly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Is that so? Well, you’ve made a huge mistake. You’ll never get out of here alive. You or your fiancé.”
“He’s with me. I am the map.” Her father’s deep voice boomed from the doorway.
“Robert? But you're dead.” Dubois cried out in surprise.
****
Jack took advantage of everyone’s shock and quickly turned, smashing his fist into Moreau’s face. Winters and his four men poured in through the doorway. All hell broke loose. A loud yell from behind him caused him to spin around. A stocky sailor with a shiny bald head barreled toward him. He crouched low and flipped his opponent over his shoulder onto the ground.
Moreau, holding his bloody nose with one hand, stalked back to where Vivian and Morgan stood. Damn the man, he was like a bloody cockroach.
“You bitch.” Moreau’s furious voice carried across the room. “You think you can steal from me? Do you know what kind of trouble you pulled down on my head?” He reached for Vivian.
Morgan stepped neatly in front of her and with two powerful punches laid Moreau on the floor, unconscious. Jack’s fists unclenched as Cage cut Vivian’s hands free and pushed her under the table. Then his friend waded into the fight, fists flying, knocking heads together.
Jack began to make his way through the throng of men with one purpose—get to Vivian and get her out the back door. He threw another punch and then grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt, tossing him to the side. All of a sudden, an arm snaked around his throat from behind, and the snick of a pistol being cocked clicked in his ear.
“Move and you're dead,” Dubois said in his ear. The stench of soured ale and Dubois’s ripe body odor turned his stomach. He could barely suck in air because of the pressure on his windpipe. Where was Vivian? He must get to Vivian.
